Words Unwritten
by NaTak
Summary: "The piglet wants to make sure she will never be forgotten", he said lowly at last. The rat snorted. "As if that was possible. She'll forever haunt this barn. The stubborn creature."


A/N: Once upon a time I made a promise. Like Charlotte, I honor my promises. Even if it's six years later.

o.O.o

 **Words unwritten**

By NaTak

The nights were becoming chiller and chiller as the weeks went by. Soon, it would be snowing. And the piglet would live to see it, after all.

Templeton snorted as he picked his way towards the hay nest, where a tiny sack of miniscule eggs laid.

"I could be in my cozy hole, enjoying a decent meal…But no! Even now that spider finds ways to make my life impossible." The rat muttered to himself.

The couple watching the eggs was in earshot, and two long necks turned around in synchrony.

"Oh, look, dear. The rat's arrived on time. For once."

Templeton rolled his eyes in annoyance. He despised that irritating accent.

"Just be glad I came at all," he spat. "I have no obligation whatsoever regarding the bag of rotting eggs."

The pair of geese was already flying away when the reply came. "Whatever you say, rat."

Templeton huffed when he reached the nest. At last some peace and quiet around here.

Ever since the pig had come back victorious, his weepy mood had infected everyone in the farm. It was just impossible to live among these animals these days… They were more united than ever, having a strong cause in common: care for the spider's spawn. The piglet had even insisted they establish a _schedule_.

Templeton shivered. This barn was freaking cold! Dawn would certainly find him as popsicle. (Hmmm. Popsicles…) That pig was going to be the death of him. His freaky eight legged friend hadn't managed to end him before her demise, so the swine was clearly trying to honor her memory by finishing off her work.

The rat sniffed at the eggs as he always did with everything. And then poked at them with his nose. That was by far the most bizarre nest he had ever encountered. There was no sign there were actually living creatures inside the matted tangle of web. And to think the piglet had asked them to _talk_ to the unborn "baby spiders"– piglet's words – as if they could actually _hear_ anything.

And to think the others had actually complied.

In fact, that was the only reason he accepted at all to become part of this madness. The first night the pig was in charge of the nest was a sleepless night for Templeton. The damned piglet wouldn't shut up! Telling the rotting eggs stories of how their mother was amazing, and had managed to save him and bla bla bla…

Honestly. Was a quiet night of sleep and rest too much to ask?

Ever since, Templeton would magnanimously take the night shift while the whole barn slept. A bit of quiet and silence were worth spending some hours in company of the devil's spawn.

He settled down besides the sack, and rested his head on his pawns.

"To think the pig truly believes any of this makes any difference…" Templeton muttered to himself. "Even the idiotic geese wouldn't waste their time talking to their hatching eggs."

He paused. "Well, maybe now they would. Seeing as now everyone has seemingly lost their minds!"

The rat spat in the general direction he believed the pig to be sleeping.

"It's all the pig's fault. And the cursed spider's." He looked down. "Even from the grave she has a hand in making my life a living hell."

A freezing gust of wind entered through the open windows, and Templeton moved unperceptively closer to the bag.

"Well, I suppose now things are quieter," he admitted begrudgingly. "I'm not running around as much, collecting random pieces of paper." He rolled his eyes at the insanity of that.

He thought for a bit. "And food is easier to come by as well." He added, daydreaming about the wash he would lavish the following morning.

Templeton signed in annoyance, rolling so that his back was against the hay and his eyes staring at the ceiling. "The thing is. The pig feels guilty about the spider's death. He thinks that if she hadn't come to the fair with him and hadn't had to write that last word, she might have made it", the rat huffed in anger. "Stupid pig."

He turned to his side, facing the sack of eggs.

"Stupid, stupid spider".

He mumbled. "And now, all of us pay for his guilt." A yaw. "With sleepless nights and restless days."

Templeton closed his eyes, and was quiet for a few minutes. One would believe he had fallen asleep.

"The piglet wants to make sure she will never be forgotten", he said lowly at last. The rat snorted. "As if that was possible. She'll forever haunt this barn. The stubborn creature."

"He has high hopes for the 'baby spiders', as he would put it," he continued, voice bored. "Wants to befriend them like their mother befriended him when no one else would."

He snorted in a mean laugh. "I think he actually dreams of the barn being taken over by spiders. Hundreds and hundreds living together with the animals. All friends." Templeton snorted yet again. "Cunning, manipulative creatures, spiders are. The pig may see his wish granted after all."

The rat trashed and turned, but could not find a comfortable position.

"The pig is stupid and naïve," he declared, frustrated. "He couldn't see what was right in front of his pink nose…"

"Not like I could, anyway…" Templeton murmured, closing his eyes again.

o.O.o

It was the night before the fair. The air was still pleasantly warm and the barn was silent. Even with all the excitement for the following morning everyone had managed to quiet down eventually.

Templeton was in search of a midnight snack, and ventured outside his hole, sniffing around.

As per usual, he found the nocturnal spider in her corner of the passage, gracefully spinning her webs. (Templeton resented having to associate the blasted arachnid with anything graceful, but there was no denying it. Charlotte's movements were simply mesmerizing).

Except that night they were not.

Templeton was startled to a halt as the spider fumbled with her web and tumbled, almost falling off. She regained her balance in the last second, and slowly, so very carefully descended to the ground, heaving.

The rat approached lazily and noticed she seemed to be trembling, despite the warm weather.

"Tripping about, are we now?" He said nonchalantly.

Charlotte almost jumped in the air. She probably would have, if she hadn't been so outworn.

"Oh, Templeton", she said when he was recognized. "I didn't see you approaching. Good evening."

The spider was so very polite. Always talking with her gentlest voice, saying big, complicated words.

Templeton ignored her salutation – as she had taught the pig – and settled down besides her, chewing at some corn he had managed to find.

"The spawn giving you trouble already?" He commented casually.

Charlotte signed and looked up at the incomplete web.

"It has never been this hard," she said softly, mostly to herself. "It would always come so naturally and easily… Now I can't even finish a single web before I'm so tired I can barely move."

She then turned, her gaze searching his eyes.

"Do you think Wilbur will live to see the snow?" The spider asked, her voice faltering. She looked uncertain and afraid, unlike the confident exterior she always showed everyone else.

Templeton could not for the life of him figure out why she would choose a rat of all creatures in the farm to share these moments with. But she would, time and time again. The rat would leave his hole in the middle of the night and the spider would approach him, and she would speak. And Templeton would listen. Liked it or not, lost in her multiple gaze, trying to act nonchalantly but failing every night.

Aggravating canny, sharp spider. Always finding ways to trap you within her web.

He mentally shook his head and physically snorted.

"What? The piglet? If it was up to the dumb humans he would unquestionably become ham sooner rather than later."

Charlotte glanced down and signed.

"But it's not up to the humans anymore," the rodent continued, casually licking his pawns after a last taste of his supper. "Because a Machiavellian spider has made her quest to safe the insufferable pig. And dragged every innocent bystander along, by the way."

Charlotte laughed softly, and suddenly she looked younger and healthier. And maybe, just maybe…

"'Machiavellian' is it?" She inquired playfully. "I wonder if all this running around looking for pieces of writing has actually taught you some enlightened vocabulary".

Templeton buffed.

"Believe me, in this town there is next to nothing of 'enlightened' – or as I prefer, stuck up – vocabulary." He glared at the spider. "And it certainly isn't laying around in piles of trash."

The arachnid crawled nearer.

"I see," she murmured. And then was silent.

They could hear the buzzing of insects far away and little else; it was truly a quiet night.

Charlotte observed the stars, lost in thought, and Templeton became more and more unsettled in the sudden halt of the light conversation.

As always, the insidious spider would invent new ways to lure him.

"I think," he finally conceded, looking away, "that spending so much time around you has had a detrimental effect on my mental health."

The spider shifted her gaze to him in a heartbeat, and smiled sincerely. Then wickedly.

"'Detrimental' is it?"

"Just shut up, you annoying spider."

Charlotte smiled, content. Utterly unbothered by the insult.

"I should go," she said after long silent minutes. "I'll rest for a while and maybe try to finish the web to catch breakfast later."

Templeton huffed in response. "Sure it won't be the breakfast catching you?"

The spider looked pensive for a moment.

"I suppose soon enough it won't matter either way," she murmured at last.

The rat glared in anger at her, and quickly retreated back to his hole, muttering as he went, sure she would hear him.

"Just don't go off and do something stupid, like writing 'miraculous phenomenal spectacular pig' in a web somewhere."

Her laughter bid him goodnight.

o.O.o

Templeton woke up with a humid, hot thing pocking his backside. A most unpleasant way to be woken up.

"Oh, for the love of… Can't a rat have any peace around here?" He muttered, rubbing his eyes.

"Sorry, Templeton," Wilbur replied, in his cheerful high-pitched voice. "The sun is up and your turn to watch Charlotte's babies is over."

"And thank God for that!" The rat exclaimed, getting up and stretching. "These things are like dead stone, no use in babysitting them".

The pig glanced lovingly at the sack of eggs.

"I don't believe that," he said. "I'm sure the little spiders appr-appreciate", he struggled with the complicated word, "our company and our stories."

Templeton snickered. "As if I would waste my time and tire my voice telling some baby monsters stories."

With that he left for his hole, but not before announcing he would be back for the wash. And don't the piglet dare eat all of it.

As he entered his home, the rat took the time to treasure all the small things he had acquired over time. The snacks, the rotting food, the shiny trinkets… And also, various pieces of paper, of a myriad of colors, shapes, sizes… Just small things he collected when he went out for some diversity of food.

It had begun shortly after the spider had written the first word he found. As he looked for words for the pig, his eyes would lock on other words, not quite fitting for the swine but for someone else entirely.

Words like stubborn, cunning, Machiavellian, annoying, manipulative, aggravating, canny, insidious, sharp, graceful, mesmerizing, confident, polite, gentle, enlightened.

And maybe, just maybe, beautiful.

o.O.o

Many weeks later – when the young spiders were born, gone, and named, and Templeton gave his ultimatum regarding future activities and tasks he would certainly never again commit to – Joy, Aranea and Nellie giggled at him.

And the rat most certainly did not see the glint of recognition in their multiple eyes.


End file.
